


Marvelous

by vatnalilja



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Loss of Virginity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-25 15:28:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22498336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vatnalilja/pseuds/vatnalilja
Summary: In which the Dragonborn wants to break her adorable Imperial milk-drinker very badly.
Relationships: Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Lucien Flavius, Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Lucien Flavius
Comments: 3
Kudos: 108





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Lots of fluff for our adorable Imperial.

She had left him in Dumzbthar what felt like ages ago, the civil war having preoccupied her for far too long. She had avoided taking sides, but the tensions were starting to interfere with her main mission. With an uneasy peace now settling back over Skyrim, she was finally able to head back to Solstheim and check in on him. She knew he was alive, having exchanged a few letters by courier, but she needed to see him for herself. She did truly miss his company, having grown used to his presence and constant chatter, even when his voice trilled on the higher side of obnoxious. Traveling alone was far too quiet and dealing with the soldiers wasn't the same. They certainly couldn't carry a tune the way he did.

Lucien looked up from his writing, his quill scratching to a halt as she darkened the door to his makeshift study. He looked paler than she remembered--he'd spent too much time in the dwemer ruins. His hair had grown to the point that she had a hard time believing she'd left him there for that long. She had been busy, of course, but had that much time really passed?

"I wondered if you'd ever come!" he said, abandoning his current task and standing. 

"Lucien, you've been holed up in here too long," she said as set her things down and moved toward him. "Look how thin you are. Your mother would kill me if she saw you like this."

"There's no need to fuss," he said. "I've just been hard at work."

She clasped his forearm with her hand, grinning. Not stopping there, he pulled her into a tight hug, which she returned with a laugh. Even after being stuck down here for so long, he still smelled good and his frame was still solid. He had held onto a little of that muscle she put on him.

"Come on then. I've brought some Rosethorn," she said as they let each other go.

"Are you serious? I haven't had a bottle of that in ages," he said.

She didn't realize until that moment just how much she had missed his accent. It was practically music to her ears.

He slid his hand in hers and tugged her over to a pair of classically uncomfortable dwemer chairs that he had draped with blankets to make them a bit easier on the body. She snagged her bag along the way and pulled it open once they were seated. 

"Have you taken care of Alduin, then?" he asked as she dug through her things.

"Not without you, I wouldn't dare," she said, producing the bottle of mead and pulling the cork free. She handed it to him and he took a swig from it, then another. 

"That hits the spot," he said, "Takes me back to my days at the university."

"I'm sure you were a real animal," she said, taking the bottle.

"Ah, there's that sarcasm I've missed so much. But no, I was far from the life of the party. I used to drink the stuff while pouring over research."

"Goodness, I've missed you, Lucien," she said abruptly. "It's been all grumpy Nords and brutish masculinity since you've been gone."

"I've missed you, too. I still can't believe my luck that the person who took pity on a foolhardy scholar like me ended up being the Dragonborn. I'm _still_ surprised you let me tag along," he said. 

"You paid me well. Say, do you remember how when we first met, how I thought you were propositioning me?" she asked.

His cheeks quickly turned pink.

"I don't suppose you've propositioned many women, have you?" she asked. 

"I most certainly have not," he said as he gave her an annoyed look. 

"I also take it no one has ever propositioned you, either." 

"I'm so glad you've come. Have you eaten?" he asked, clearly looking to change the subject.

"Lucien. Have you not slept with anyone?" 

"Suppose I haven't." 

The indignation in his voice was thick. This was apparently a sore spot for him and his response gave her all the information she needed. She leaned back and studied him again with a smirk. He was a far cry from the hearty Nords that she'd grown used to. He certainly was a fraction as hairy.

"What's that look for?" he asked, recognizing the mischief in her eyes immediately. 

"What look?" 

"Don't play stupid with me. I know when you're scheming something."

She held her hand to her chest, feigning shock at his accusation. The truth of the matter was that she had no devious plan of any sort. She could play matchmaker, but the idea of setting him up with someone was problematic-- she had no idea who to even match him with and worse yet, the thought annoyed her. 

She realized that it actually made her a bit jealous. 

"No schemes Lucien," she said. "Honestly."

"I'm too busy with my studies to... pursue the fairer sex, you know," he said. 

"It's hard to get much fairer than you. You need some sun, Flavius," she said. "You know, had you actually been trying to take me to bed when we first met, I might have said yes. You were an adorable milk drinker. Oddly confident, too, for having such a terrible sword arm." 

"I guess I missed my chance, didn't I?" he asked.

"It could still happen."

He laughed and took the mead once again. But after he took a swig, he saw the look on her face. Her eyebrows were raised in a way that made his laugh turn nervous and then fade altogether. He took another drink immediately. 

"Oh gods, you're serious, aren't you?" he asked. 

"I won't harass you about it, but we trust each other an awful lot. Maybe you're saving yourself for the right person--" 

Another laugh escaped him, this one sharp and bitter. 

"Well, give it some thought. I won't be inappropriate. So. Show me what you've been working on."

"Gladly," he said, eager for the diversion she offered. 

***

He wasn't exactly ready to up and leave his research the moment she arrived and asked for a few days to wrap up before they set out. She didn't know exactly what the timeline was for the end of the world, but it had waited this long so she figured it could wait a bit longer.

On the third evening, she heard him clear his throat behind her as she sat cleaning her blade in the furnace room one floor down from his quarters. She looked over her shoulder to see him hovering in the doorway. It was clear he had something on his mind but lacked the courage to speak. 

"Yes?" she asked, putting her things down to fully turn to him.

"About the other night. And you know... what you said."

"Yes?" 

"How do I put this in the least embarrassing way," he said, scratching the back of his head. "Yes?" 

"Really?" she asked. "Truly?" 

"Don't make this any more awkward that it has to be." 

She stood and crossed the room, trying to determine whether or not he was being earnest. It didn't seem like him to jest about such things. Besides that, his body language was too hesitant for him to not be serious.

"If just talking about it makes you uncomfortable, Lucien, then you're going to hate the rest of this."

He sighed and wandered into the hallway and up the steps. She followed, her eyes trained on his narrow waist. Possibilities raced through her mind, making her heart race. She didn't make a habit of sleeping with the inexperienced--there was little reward. But he was different. While she hadn't assumed he was a virgin, it was easy enough for her to tell during their time together that he didn't have a lot of practice. The idea was alluring. She had spent more time than she cared to admit pondering ways to destroy his svelte frame under her hips. 

"How do we start this?" he asked, turning to her. "The sooner, the better so I can stop worrying about making an ass out of myself."

She slid up to him and wrapped one arm around his waist. With her other hand, she took his and put it on her hip. He was nearly the same height as her and it quickly became obvious once their bodies were together that despite his nerves, he was aroused. 

Her lips brushed against his and his hand immediately clenched the cloth of her tunic at her hip. The kiss was almost nothing at first because he had no idea how to react. He was almost completely unresponsive for several long seconds, but eventually took her example. He was clumsy. She didn't mind. 

Her hands moved up along his chest and over his shoulders. With significant trepidation, he put his arms around her, barely holding her. Regardless, she pushed her chest against his. He was so slight, she felt like she could fold him into her. After a bit, she let her lips leave his, her mouth not far from his.

"This isn't so bad," he muttered. 

The single stone bed left by the long since dead inhabitants hardly looked inviting, so she tugged several furs from around the room into a pile for them. He followed as she tugged him down until the two of them were lying face to face. Her hands slipped into the loose, untied neck of his shirt, her eyes on his. 

"If you don't mind, could we just do this... for a bit longer?" he asked, his voice strained. 

"Of course, Lucien. I'm not going to rush you," she said, her voice gentle. He was at ease nearly immediately, his body relaxing under her hands. Now feeling some relief, he initiated his own kiss.

The evening passed with their bodies pressed against the other's. His kisses grew less awkward as time went on, their intimate moments punctuated by small talk. She caressed him, her hands staying above his waist, while he was too shy still to touch more than her sides or arms.

"Can I take your shirt off?" she asked.

"Only if I can take off yours," he said, the playful tone returning to his voice. He looked and sounded more like the Lucien she knew. 

She pulled his shirt up over his head, revealing his chest. She had seen him shirtless during their travels many times, and she took whatever opportunity she could to admire his figure. For a moment, she combed his light chest hair with her fingertips, her eyes on his abdomen. He had always been thin, but where his stomach had once been fairly soft, it now bore faint lines from his muscles. 

His hands reached down to the hem of her tunic and with her help, he had it off, leaving her only in her drawers. His eyes trailed up and down her body as he sucked his bottom lip in between his teeth. He had a very academic idea of women's bodies--while he had seen women nude, he never had the opportunity to come in physical contact with any. 

"By the Eight," he whispered. "Can-can I touch you?" 

"Yes, of course."

His hands cupped her breasts, his fingers pressing slightly into her soft flesh.

"They feel every bit as amazing as I imagined."

"Breasts in general, or mine?" 

"Oh no. I'm not walking into that trap," he said. "I say in general and you'll feign offense. I say your breasts specifically and you'll accuse me of ogling you."

She laughed and reached her bottom hand out to toy with his blonde hair as he touched her. There was nothing hungry about his contact, as clearly aroused as he was. She found it immensely refreshing not to be groped or prodded or squeezed. His hands eventually drifted from her body and he propped his head up in his hand, now looking down at her slightly.

"I seem to work in the opposite way from most people. Everyone seems to be guided by their groins. People are intimate with each other without even knowing who the other person truly is," he said.

He paused to kiss her yet again, lingering there for a while he searched for more words. 

"Personally, I have to know someone for a while before I develop a physical attraction to them. And by the time I do, the person in particular has already moved on."

"So you've never had a real chance," she said.

"I haven't. There's no such thing as a one-night stand for me. I'm just not physically excited by strangers."

"I didn't ever expect you to take me up on my offer," she said, her eyes wrinkling at the corners as she gave him the sincerest smile he had seen in ages.

"Neither did I," he said. "But you are fascinating. And as you mentioned, I trust you completely. My life has been in your hands for quite some time and we've seen amazing things together. I consider you my closest friend. We have a bond that I've never had with anyone else before." 

"Look. I'm not saying I'm in love with you," he continued. "But that I admire you deeply. And that I have _in fact_ developed an appreciation for your hips."

Her fingers traced down the edge of his ear to his jaw. He turned his head, pressing his lips into her palm, kissing it. 

"I could be dead tomorrow," she said. "Let's just enjoy each other's company, whatever that looks like."

He let out a small, relieved sigh. Her presence was soothing. Of course, he had felt some fear when he first started following her, but that had quickly dissipated when she defended him and later taught him whatever she could. He wasn't as natural with a sword or spell as she was, but he had become more competent than any bandit or mercenary under her tutelage, finally putting all of his long-researched theory into practice.

"So, you want to go to sleep with that, or do you want my help?" she asked, gesturing down to the obvious erection in his pants. The trepidation on his face slowed her down, her fingers on his belt. "You won't have to worry about a thing, Lucien. I'll do all the work."

"But what about you?" he asked. 

"My dear, I can get the two of us off. You just need to lie there and be beautiful."

"I can arrange that," he said, a small smile overtaking his concerned expression. His happiness was brief, however, plunging back into anxiety when her eyes widened as she undid his trousers and tugged them down. 

"Is-is something wrong?" he asked.

"Gods, your dick is huge," she said as she marveled at just how large he was. For all their time together, she never suspected how endowed he was.

"Is it?" he asked, not sure whether to be flattered or worried. 

"You don't know?" she asked. 

"Well, it's not like a I spend a lot of time around nude men," he said. "Let alone aroused nude men."

"Lucien. Your dick is giant," she said, wrapping her hands around his shaft. He was already completely hard and her touch resulted in a small, surprised sound from him.

"Is that... bad?" he asked. 

"No, but we're going to have to go a lot slower than I planned."

After pulling her last piece of clothing off, she straddled his thighs, both of her hands on him, one moving up and down his shaft while the other cupped his balls, applying gentle pressure. He squeezed the tops of her legs as she casually toyed with him. 

"Gods, it feels nice to be touched by someone else," he said.

"Is there anything I shouldn't do?" she asked. 

"I trust you completely," he whispered. 

With that, she moved up his body a bit and slid him through her folds, his head grazing her clit. The sensation was wonderful. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't have suppressed the moan that came out of him. She rocked her body against his erection for a bit, enjoying the feeling of him pressed against her, her thumb spinning circles around his tip.

Underneath her, he looked like he was in heaven, his lips parted, his eyes half closed. It was an intoxicating sight, one she wanted more of. She lifted her hips and then slid herself down onto him, taking him slowly, inch by inch. With much care, she managed to slide all of the way down and he groaned as she settled her weight onto him, his full length inside her.

"I'm going to feel this tomorrow," she said.

"We don't have to do this if it's painful," he said, taking note of the slight grimace she was trying to hold back. 

"I absorb dragon souls as a source of power, Lucien. I'm not going to be deterred by your giant dick."

He folded his hands behind his head, a smug smile crossing his face as he looked up at her. With the tip of her tongue pressed up against her upper front teeth, she began moving her hips forward and back, rolling her groin against his. His eyes drifted shut and sighed in pleased contentment, the rocking motion one of the nicest things he'd ever felt in his entire life.

"It's really that big?" he asked, the anxiety gone from his voice. 

"You really had no clue?" 

"I swear to the Divines."

His innocence was scintillating, fueling her rapidly blooming desire. He became easier to accommodate as she felt herself grow wetter around him. Her fingers slid down to her clit, which she stroked at an angle. As the discomfort subsided, she concentrated her effort on herself. If she was going to properly fuck him, she needed to come herself beforehand.

Her eyes went soft and she stopped looking at anything in particular as her fingers quickened. His cock managed to rub against every inch of her, making it much easier to work herself up. The desperate ache rose in her core and there was a moment of nothing before she let out a long, loud cry, her senses now hazy as the orgasm rippled outward into her tingling limbs.

After the first wave coursed through her and the initial fog lifted, her hands flung to his waist, clutching it as she began pounding her body up and down on him, the sensation so much that she could hardly stand how it felt. Within minutes, his hips bucked back up against her in primal response, his groans escalating into a single uninterrupted sound. After a bit, his moaning turned into ragged breaths and his body went limp. She watched him, her own pleasure evening out to a warm, throbbing sense of accomplishment.

"I... see... the... appeal," he said, each word between a breath. "I'm sorry that I... finished so quickly."

"I expected it," she said, patting his chest softly.

"It felt amazing."

Lifting her weight from him, his absence within her was immediately noticeable, almost bittersweet. She was still floating, but a part of her craved him again already.

"Let's just do this all night," she said, lying down at his side.

"Whatever you say, boss," he said, turning his head toward her and grinning. The prospect was clearly fine with him.


	2. Chapter 2

Alduin was finally dead, Miraak had been defeated, and her sanity remained mostly intact despite the madness she had endured. She was recognized across Skyrim wherever she went and while she had been forced to fight those battles alone, Lucien had gained a fair amount of fame himself for being with her nearly every step of the way. He hadn't ever anticipated becoming a hero when he left Cyrodiil, but she had turned his life upside down. 

They were all but forced to do a circuit of the holds, each Jarl wanting to brag about how they had helped the Dragonborn with her various deeds, save Balgruuf, who simply threw them a magnificent feast and made no attempt to steal her valor. She couldn't say no, in part because of manners, but also in part to the many friends she had made in each hold. It was an opportunity for her to invite and recognize her allies. Besides, the food was good and the attention wasn't all bad, even if it was exhausting.

Of all the Jarls, Elisif planned for the most elaborate party, not stopping at merely a dinner. The future High Queen arranged for a ball and even sent her tailor to Proudspire to fit the Dragonborn for a dress the week before the festivities were set to take place. It was then that Dragonborn stood staring at the full length mirror in front of her, her face displaying precisely how she felt as the tailor made a few final alterations to the gold and silver dress she was currently squeezed into.

Leaning in the doorway, her blonde-haired friend watched with amusement as he worked through an apple. He had been measured and was assured that a set of garments would be sent along in the next day or two. She envied him as she stood helpless at the seamstress's endless tugging and pulling.

"You _do_ look nice," Lucien said.

He grinned in response to the withering look she shot him. 

"What? You do."

They hadn't been intimate since leaving Dumzbthar--there had been little time to sort out the nature of their relationship, let alone the energy to share a bed. The more time went by, the harder it became to breach the subject. Despite the growing awkwardness, she still managed to catch him staring at her when she was preoccupied.

"It's not exactly my style," she said. 

"I'm sure you're brave enough to handle a gown, my dear," he said. 

"If you like it so much, you can wear it. You're so damn pretty, if we just shave that beard off, you'd look better in this than me."

As he rubbed his short beard, she realized she'd never seen him without facial hair. It wasn't as if their lifestyle had lent itself to a lot of idle grooming. He was already so youthful looking with whatever facial hair he had, she couldn't imagine what he'd look like without it. 

"If this were the Imperial City, I would definitely shave," he said. "But the Nords seem pretty attached to their beards. Literally and figuratively. Without one, I worry they'll mistake me for a milk drinker and not your very brave and extremely handsome companion."

"I'll break anyone's arm if they give you a hard time," she said. Imperials certainly had a reputation in Skyrim, especially those from the city. So far, everyone had been quite civil with him and she hadn't considered possibilities otherwise. Her presence and association undoubtedly staved off any insults Nords may have for him.

"Don't worry. If they didn't harass me in Windhelm, they won't here," he said. "Solitude is a refined city, after all."

"That's what they'd have you believe," she said as she fidgeted under the seamstress' hands. "This city is messed up in its own wonderful way."

"A bit cursed, isn't it?" 

"If this thing gets any tighter, I'll die in it and add my own damn curse," she said and for good measure, the seamstress, who had been enduring her constant complaints, pulled her laces even tighter, causing the Dragonborn to wheeze. "I swear to the Divines, I'll never wear another dress after this."

"Not even in the Imperial City?" he asked. 

"Am I going there any time soon?"

He shrugged. There was obviously more he wanted to say, but he held back. When he didn't add to the thought, she let it go and returned her gaze to the mirror. For all the bother, she had to agree with him--she did look nice.

***

On the day of the ball, Elisif sent an attendant many hours in advance to help the Dragonborn into her dress. The attendant also brought along a beautiful palette of crushed minerals and powders, applying them to the Dragonborn's face. Makeup was not a part of her everyday world. She had the gold, but there was never any point powering her face if she was just going to end up in a cave before the day was over.

When the attendant was through, she helped the Dragonborn out of the bedroom, where they found Lucien in a vibrant blue tunic covered in detailed golden embroidery. His clothes were perfectly tailored to his trim figure. Most striking, however, was his clean-shaven skin. She had grown accustomed to his appearance traveling and fighting together, never quite clean and never fully rested. The man that stood before her now actually looked like the wealthy, young Imperial lord he was.

"You look beautiful," he said in a bit of surprise.

"You're quite handsome yourself," she replied, his compliment having a greater effect on her than she could have anticipated.

"Shall we?" he asked, extending his hand toward her. 

With a smile that was shyer than she preferred, she took his hand and they left Proudspire with the attendant behind them. The walk to the Blue Palace was short and the evening was not too chilly, making the stroll enjoyable, but neither of them said anything more. 

As they reached the garden at the palace's entrance, they encountered several other guests, some she recognized from other holds. They were engaged in pleasantries, goblets of wine in hand. The attendant excused her charges, insisting that they make their way inside to meet the Jarl. The Dragonborn was grateful for the diversion--she had her share of small talk for the next decade. She was sure she wouldn't be able to escape them for the entire night, though.

After pleasantries with the Jarl and her court, Elisif showed them to their seats at the main table in a wing the Dragonborn had not yet seen--this one was thankfully not haunted. The table was laden with rich food and drinks from every corner of Tamriel, a testament to Elisif's wealth and growing connections across the continent. Before the Dragonborn could do anything at all, she found herself with a goblet of wine in hand, given to her by a servant who disappeared into the crowd before she even realized she was holding it. 

She found it difficult to sit in her dress, the corset restrictive enough to make breathing a chore, so after an amount of time she hoped was polite, she stood and hovered awkwardly behind the table while the dancing began, sipping from her drink. Sensing her anxiety, Lucien stood and straightened his tunic.

"Would you like to dance?" he asked.

"It's better than sitting," she said and downed her wine quickly. 

He offered his arm to her, the other folded behind his back. She looked at it, then to his face. He was smiling with such warmth that she couldn't deny his invitation. She slid her hand up around his bicep and let him pull her to the dance floor, where he wrapped his arm around her waist and began leading her in time with the music.

"My mother would be so pleased," he said. "Me, dancing with the Dragonborn. Where everyone can see."

"From what you've told me, she doesn't seem to be the type to care much for dinner parties," she said. 

"She's softened with retirement," he said. "Besides, who do you think taught me to dance?" 

"I was going to ask where you picked up all of these fine manners, but then I remembered you're a city boy," she said with a grin. "It suits you."

"Thank you," he said.

"Seriously, you look gorgeous," she said. "I'm going to have to fight the girls off of you."

"That's not true. It's not as if I'm some good looking, accomplished adventurer. Oh wait. I am!"

She hooked her arm around the back of his neck and laughed as he led her in a pattern she couldn't keep track of, circling the other couples. She felt out of place when compared to the rest of the women, but she tried not to care. None of them had defeated Alduin, the World Eater, so whatever judgment of her they had, they could keep to themselves.

One dance blended into another and others came and went on the dance floor, but he kept her there, moving her around with artful skill. And while other couples continued to laugh around them, ladies giggling at their dance partners' coy whispers, the two of them grew dead quiet, each wondering how to approach a particular topic.

With ruddy cheeks, she locked his gaze for the final minutes of the dance, unable to bear the stress any longer.

"When is this party over? I have a beautiful blonde with gorgeous blue eyes I'd like to take home," she said in a voice just loud enough for him to hear. 

"Oh thank the Divines," he said. "I've been losing my mind. I wasn't sure whether or not you were still attracted to me."

"If I know you at all, you've probably been overthinking it," she said, one corner of her mouth turning upward in a smirk. 

"Oh yes, very much so," he said with a deep sigh. "What a relief."

"Can we find somewhere quiet once this dance is over?"

"Most certainly."

When the music stopped briefly, he led her from the center of the room back to the crowd of onlookers, who took the chance to compliment her and offer up toasts. She obliged as best as she could as they weaved through the people and eventually found themselves on the outside of throng, facing a long hallway. 

Her plan had been to drag him from the premises and back to Proudspire but he surprised her by pulling her into an unoccupied sitting room halfway down the wing. Once the door was closed behind them, he pressed her up against it, kissing her frantically. He had enough weeks of built-up desire that it drove him to point of taking initiative, something the old him would have never even considered.

Their hands pawed at each other, his pulling up her dress. He grabbed her hips once he had drawn her skirt up far enough, grinding his erection under his trousers into her. She made no attempt to take control of the situation, letting him push his body up against hers, his short fingernails digging into her skin.

When their kiss broke, he spun her around and finished hiking up the hem of her dress. He groaned when he saw she was wearing a garter belt for her stockings but no drawers. Hurriedly, he unbuckled his belt with one hand and pulled his cock free from beneath his tunic. Holding her bunched skirt against the small of her back, he positioned himself properly and then plunged his length up into her from behind, which made her gasp.

"Sorry," he apologized quietly, a twinge of guilt in his voice.

"Warn a girl next time," she muttered.

She bent over slightly, sticking her ass out toward him so he'd have a better angle for his thrusts, which he began nearly immediately. His pace was confused, alternating between his desire to go slow and enjoy just how wonderful she felt and an anxious need to go as quickly as possible, spurred by his worry of being caught.

The need to come won out against everything else and he squeezed her waist, slamming himself into her until he felt the tightness in his groin grip him fully and then explode, sending a wave of sparks through his entire body. He slowed to a stop as he tried to restrain his heavy breathing and after several long moments, he let her skirt fall back toward the floor, stepping back to refasten his trousers in a slight daze. 

"Well, that was certainly primal," he said as his string of actions caught up to him. He could hardly believe it was something he had even done.

"I want to get out of this thing desperately," she said as she smoothed her garment's fabric. "Do you think they'd notice if we left?"

"Yes, most definitely," he said.

She grumbled and pulled the door back open. The dancing hadn't been going for long and she was sure half of the attendees would ask her to join them on the floor. She would be able to hide behind him for only so long before etiquette would allow others to interrupt him. It was all too annoying. But with her hand in his, they returned to the other guests, who folded in around them once again.

As she expected, she was asked for dance after dance. While she knew she owed no one anything, she acquiesced out of politeness. This was the last time she'd be expected to put on such a display and it did a world of help to Elisif's bid for High Queen. The worst part wasn't the constant stream of admirers, all looking to have their brush with fame, but slick that steadily grew between her thighs. It also left her counting the moments until she could wrap her legs around his head to make up for the state in which he had left her.

The wine carried her tired feet past midnight, when she made a tactical retreat with him at her side. He knew by the way she tugged him along that as weary as she was, she had additional plans for him before the night was over. And while he was sure he had too much to drink to properly perform again that evening, he knew he owed her.

No sooner than they were in the door, he was helping her undo the ties to the corset of her dress. Together, they pushed the whole thing over her head, leaving it in a heap in the manor's front room. Their bodies crashed into her bed and his hand slid up between her legs. She pushed her body against his touch, moaning into his kiss. His fingers pressed into her clit, stroking it back and forth. While he was a fast study, he was still inexperienced in this particular regard. Thankfully, the alcohol removed most of his fear that he might do it all wrong. 

The sensation crept up on her, so slow that she mistook it at first for his manual stimulation. It tingled, spreading from his hand into the folds of her skin, a current so gentle that it naturally accompanied his touch. As it grew strong enough to recognize in its own right, she broke his kiss and stared at him. 

"Are you using magic?" she asked. 

"I am," he said, looking very pleased with himself. 

"It feels extremely nice. Just... be careful down there."

"I've practiced a thousand times on myself," he said with absolutely zero shame. "Believe me, I've perfected the required light touch."

"Mages."

She let her head fall back into her pillow as she enjoyed the slight electric current that rippled through her skin, triggering all of her nerve endings in the process. He pushed himself up against her side and watched as he continued to push his fingertips into her. She had been exhausted when they got home, but his attention was coaxing the last bit of energy out of her, her body reacting to him of its own accord. With her eyes now closed, she rode along the eddies of pleasure, the current ebbing and flowing, taking her along with it.

Her breathing grew heavier, yet came in fits as she would hold her breath for long moments before panting, the blankets clenched in her hands. He recognized that she was close and rather than tease it out, he leaned in, the speed at which his hand moved increasing. He watched her face pinch before she let out a long groan, her body going rigid as she came. The sound she made was intoxicatingly wonderful, something he craved to hear more. If he weren't so tired, he'd have been painfully hard.

As the pleasure faded into a pleasant exhaustion, her body relaxed and she cozied up to his chest. She wrapped her arms around him, her eyelids floating open as a stupid smile spread across her face.

"This was all long overdue," she said.

"I agree. I'd like to keep doing this, with you. For the foreseeable future. If you don't mind, that is."

More than almost anything, he wanted to find new ways to please her. If she was willing to let him perfect his techniques on her, he was more than happy to oblige. She filled him with an almost unnatural sense of confidence, even when he had no idea what he was doing.

She laughed and pulled him into a soft kiss, her hand in his hair.

"I don't mind. After all, you've got a lot to learn yet," she said, locking eyes with him as they lie there. 

"Would you like to come with me back to Cyrodiil? Now that the threat of apocalypse is no longer looming and you've paid all your visits, I thought you could come to the Imperial City with me," he said.

"Bringing me home to your parents, are you?" 

"I know they'd love to meet you. Besides, it's not every day I get to bring home a Dragonborn and several Elder Scrolls. Just think of all the talk."

"No more talking," she groaned. 

"Don't worry, you've got me as your appointed representative. You can drink and let me tell the tales," he said. 

"You do love to talk," she said, her words growing quieter and slower.

When sleep wasn't worth fighting anymore, she kissed him once more before drifting off. He shifted onto his back, pulling her tight into his side, and yawned as he stared at the ceiling, smiling in satisfaction to himself. He was halfway into mapping out his first memoir when sleep finally took him as well.


End file.
